


Head Above Water

by Anastales



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Age Difference, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anastales/pseuds/Anastales
Summary: Alex Shepherd attempts to rebuild his life post-Silent Hill. Travis Grady attempts to find solace in finding another survivor.Maybe they can help each other out.
Relationships: Travis Grady/Alex Shepherd
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm happy to be posting this fic. It's been rattling in my brain and notes for years, so I'm finally throwing it out there. This will be a multichapter slow burn fic so updates may be slow and sporadic. Tags and possibly the rating will update as I post more chapters. Enjoy!

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

It was going to be another long night.

Travis Grady leaned back in his driver’s seat, sighing as he flipped his hat brim up to stare at his cab’s ceiling. It was dark out, the sun going down fast, and his eyes adjusted to the dimming light. He was parked at an old motel in the middle of some nothing town on his delivery route, taking a break from driving. Unbuckling his belt, Travis decided now is as good a time as any to stretch his legs and grab a smoke.

He stepped down from his seat and closed the door absently, reaching into his pocket for his cigarette pack and lighter. He placed the found cigarette between his lips and brought his hands up to light it, flicking the lighter to life and taking a drag as he leaned against his cab.

It was a brisk evening, October’s chill settling in steadily as night fell. The neon sign of the motel buzzed incessantly, competing with the drone of crickets in the tall grass that grew unchallenged around the parking lot. Travis appreciated the cold and the noise; it helped keep him from dozing off too early.

Helped keep the noise inside his head at bay.

Movement from the bar down the street caught Travis’ eye. Taking another drag, he watched as a man exited the bar, looking sober and annoyed, and headed towards the motel. As he got closer, Travis could get a better look of him in the fading light. He looked out of place: young, kind of scruffy, wearing a khaki military jacket and seemingly wandering around with intense purpose. The man apparently didn’t see Travis as he walked around his truck to the motel lobby’s door. Travis continued to watch him.

The man knocked sharply on the security door of the motel lobby, waiting impatiently until the husky manager appeared and answered the door. From his distance Travis couldn’t hear what either man was saying but judging by body language it wasn’t going well. The older man raised his voice and slammed the door in the younger man’s face, causing the younger man to scream out an expletive that Travis definitely heard. The man groaned and stepped off the porch, biting a knuckle and walking out into the lot.

Travis nearly forgot the rest of his cigarette, looking down at a smoldering nub. He stomped it out and turned his attention back to the man, who was now pacing the parking lot. Travis let out a huff of amusement. What’s got this guy so worked up?

_Oh, what the hell. Let’s find out._

The man didn’t notice Travis approaching him in the late dusk light and jumped at the sound of his voice: “Hey now, you’ll make a hole at that rate.”

“Holy shit, you scared me, dude.” The man sighed, exasperated, “Listen, maybe you can help me out. I’m trying to find a ride out of this shithole but this town is full of _dicks_!” He yelled the last word out towards the motel and its manager. Travis chuckled at that but the man didn’t seem too pleased. He huffed again. “I only asked him if he knew how I could get out of town and he said I could either walk it or hitchhike, and I made the mistake of asking him if he knew someone or if he could spare a ride because he took it as me trying to fucking hit on him when I said I had no money.” He rolled his eyes. “But I suppose you might have saw that. I didn’t even see you standing out here.”

“I saw enough. Also saw you checked out the bar too.”

“Oh my god, that was a shitshow too. I walk in and everyone stares at me like I’m a freak, so I go up to the bartender and ask him the same thing and he asked how old I was. Then the asshole didn’t believe me when I said I’m twenty-two because I don’t have an I.D. so he told me to get the fuck out.”

Travis hid his smile behind his hand, trying not to laugh at the man’s expense. He really was a fish out of water.

“Yeah this doesn’t seem like a place that takes kindly to strangers. Especially ones that try to hit them up for free rides.”

The man looked away almost shamefully. “Yeah, apparently. I’m just…kinda desperate to get where I’m going.”

Travis looked over at the fading light on the horizon, beyond the trees that surrounded them. Boy shouldn’t be wandering around in the dark.

Who knows what kind of person he might run into.

“Don’t let that desperation show too much. It could really get you into trouble.” The man rolled his eyes.

“Right, right, I got it. Well, if you can’t help me then I guess I better start walking then.” He gave a small flick of his fingers in farewell and started heading out of the parking lot toward the main road.

Travis stared after him; a beat passed and he called out to him impulsively: “Look, how about _I_ give you a ride.” The man paused. Travis continued, “That’s my rig right there. As long as it’s not out of my way I’ll take you where you need to go.”

The man turned around and immediately brightened. “Really? Oh man, thank you so much, you have no idea how much that means to me.” He suddenly faltered, embarrassed. “I uh, have nothing to pay you back with though.” Travis shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not from this town so I’m not a dick.” That got the younger man to laugh, and Travis smiled. He had a nice laugh. “Just tell me your name and where you’re headed to.”

Grinning, the man held out his hand to shake. “Alex. I’m trying to get back home to Shepherd’s Glen. Know where that is?” Travis took Alex’s hand and shook it.

“Travis. That’s out by Toluca Lake and Brahms right? I can definitely get you there.”

It was also near a very special place as well. Travis hoped Alex couldn’t see the shiver that just ran down his spine.

Alex finally seemed to relax. “That’s awesome. Thanks again, Travis.”

Travis began walking back to his truck and Alex followed.

“No problem.”

A short-term travelling companion couldn’t hurt, and the buzz in his head finally fell silent.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The road dragged on, the endless trees blending together on either side as they passed. Alex stayed mostly quiet, which Travis didn’t mind. He wasn’t much for small talk anyway.

He tried asking him about the place he was going, where he came from, his family, but Alex skillfully changed the subject or gave stilted answers each time. Travis also didn’t mind that; he was a pretty private person himself, especially nowadays.

Trauma and long hours on the road alone will do that to you.

The radio was tuned to FM, and some country tune was playing. If Alex minded the music choice, he didn’t voice it. Travis kept glancing over at Alex’s dog tags, catching each street light he passed by.

“You here on military leave?”

Alex perked up at the question, “Yeah. I got hurt on my tour so I was sent to a military hospital back here in the States to recover. My tour was just about up anyway; I’ve been away for four years.” He paused. “Under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn’t be going back to Shepherd’s Glen but…” he trailed off, looking out the window again. Travis glanced at him from the side but didn’t press him. A few moments passed until Alex was able to continue, “…I’m worried about my little brother. I keep having nightmares about him, where he gets hurt or lost or trapped in a twisted version of the hospital I was staying at. I can’t stop thinking about him. Whenever I mentioned it to the staff at the hospital or tried to get in contact with my parents, they just drugged me up and put me back to sleep. I couldn’t handle that shit so I left. I just…need to get home to see if he’s okay.”

Travis looked at Alex in admiration, “Wow, you’re a great older brother.” Alex reddened at the praise.

“It’s what older brothers are supposed to do.” He shrugged but Travis could tell he appreciated the comment. But something bothered him.

“Wait, you just left?”

Alex gave a sly smile, “I stole my regular clothes, escaped through the loading docks and walked the highway until I got to that town you met me at. There was no way they were just going to let me leave on my own.”

Travis laughed heartily, hitting the wheel with his palm. “You sure are a determined son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

Alex smiled genuinely, “You fucking bet I am.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

A couple hours into the drive Alex nodded off. Travis looked at him occasionally from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t stir. He watched as headlights cascaded over his relaxed face, blooming his features in milky white for brief moments. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time, with the radio off, the hypnotic drone of the road, and Alex sleeping peacefully beside him.

He wanted nothing more than to reach over and _touch—_

But he kept his hands to himself. He concentrated back on the road.

A sign passed:

Silent Hill 3

Shepherd’s Glen 8

Brahms 18

Travis’ breathing became shaky, relaxed feeling immediately gone. He had almost forgotten where he was headed towards. He tried to ignore the sweat of his hands sticking to the driver’s wheel. Even after all this time he still couldn’t control the way his body reacts when near that place.

How long has it been? Thirty years? God, how time flies. He remembered this road as if it were yesterday; he half expected a little girl to run out in front of him.

He almost smiled at the thought.

Alex suddenly began muttering in his sleep, nothing Travis could make out, and twitching sporadically. Travis took his eyes off the road to watch Alex shift uncomfortably in his sleep, helpless.

_Must be that same nightmare._

Deep down, Travis had a feeling Alex needed to see and understand what his nightmares are trying to show him, considering how connected they were to himself and his brother. He just needed to ride it out.

Soon enough, Alex suddenly woke with a gasping jolt, sweat beading his temples. Travis didn’t budge. He already knew.

He looked over at Alex and asked with gentle concern, “Bad dream?”

_Bad dreams, bad visions._

“Yeah,” Alex murmured, blinking and touching his forehead. Travis didn’t ask for details, instead turning on the radio to maybe calm him down. A song with a sweet-sounding voice started playing, and he left it on that. Alex looked out the window distractedly, and Travis could hear him swallow.

Another sign passed:

Welcome to Shepherd’s Glen.

The fog was steadily thickening around his truck the closer he drove. Travis tightened his grip on the wheel.

_Almost there._

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Emerging from the fog, Travis eased his rig down Shepherd’s Glen’s main street and came to a stop. This place looked like a ghost town. He looked over at Alex, who still seemed to be shaken up from his nightmare. Or from something else. He decided to break the tense silence, “Home town?”

Alex hesitated, but looked at him back, “You could say that.”

Their short time together now over, Travis felt a small pang of loss. It was nice having him around. Regrettably, he extended his hand out to shake his in goodbye.

“Good luck soldier.” He meant that.

Alex took his and shook back, “Thanks.” He then turned and opened the cab’s door, carefully stepping down onto the road. He left the door open and looked back at Travis once more, giving a small wave, “Thanks for the ride.” He shut the door.

Travis put his truck back into drive and drove forward, watching Alex from his rearview mirror until he was swallowed up by the fog. He took a few turns and made it back to the road out of town, at last getting back on track. He let out a shaky exhale only when he got back onto the interstate and saw signs of life beyond the desolate emptiness of Shepherd’s Glen.

_Alex will be fine._

He repeated that over and over but noise like radio static buzzed on in his head louder than ever.


	2. Below the Waves

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The fog faded.

Quietly, steadily, the dark and oppressive aura over the town of Shepherd’s Glen lifted like a veil. The streets were empty once more; all traces of the monsters vanished as if they never existed. The only sound was the blowing of autumn leaves across the pavement.

A manhole cover shifted, then slowly scraped against the asphalt, screeching in the silence. Laboriously, Alex Shepherd managed to haul himself out of the opening, gritting his teeth over having to stress the muscles in his leg. He lay in the street for a few moments and caught his breath, lungs burning in the cold early morning air. Once he felt strong enough, he rolled over and examined his left thigh, carefully pushing back the frayed fabric fibers of his jeans around the hole. The drill wound felt like it was pulsing, still leaking blood from the shredded flesh and searing hot. Earlier, he had drank one of those medicinal drinks which numbed the pain temporarily, but has now worn off to become a sharp ache spreading down his leg like webbing. What he wouldn’t do for a first aid kit about now. He had given Wheeler his last one, to try and save him.

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t save anyone.

Only himself.

After everything, what had he accomplished? Stopping a cult? Single-handedly wiping out half his town?

He was just a murderer.

He hadn’t seen anyone after defeating the monster that Joshua had become. The monster he helped turn him into, only to kill him all over again. In his final moments with his brother, Alex had given him back the Shepherd family ring as well as his flashlight, so he wouldn’t be scared of the darkness. It was the least he could do, for whatever amount of forgiveness Josh could allow him. He had also left behind all his weapons and anything else he couldn’t fit into his pockets. If someone or something still wanted to kill him then they can go ahead and do it.

He was so tired.

But he can’t just lay here forever and bleed out. If he was anything— _murderer, useless, worthless, failure, horrible friend, terrible brother, awful awful awful—_ he was determined. Determined to do what, he wasn’t sure yet. At the very least he could try and get out of this damned town.

Bracing himself against the road underneath him, Alex shakily pushed himself up to stand, staggering slightly. Already out of breath, he swayed on his feet, threatening to fall over. Steeling himself, he carefully moved his bad leg and attempted to walk. It was painful, but he could manage to limp. He looked up and searched to see what street he was on.

Sagan St.

He sighed; he had no clue where he was in town. He pulled out the maps he had gathered out of his pocket. They were either soaked and clumped together, or not of the area he needed. In short, all useless. He discarded them all in a nearby trashcan. Steeling himself, he decided to go left and hoped for the best.

.:.:.

After over an hour of walking, near crawling, Alex finally reached an exit out of Silent Hill via Bachman Road, turning out onto the main road of Nathan Avenue. It was almost too good to be true; the roads seemed to be endless and when they weren’t it was because they ended in a massive hole. He was starting to believe he was in an escapeless maze, as if the town couldn’t bear to let him go. He almost allowed it.

He didn’t know where Elle or Wheeler were, or if they’re even still alive. He hadn’t seen a single living thing since he exited the manhole. Elle seemed to be in good shape and could hold her own, but Wheeler had been bleeding out pretty badly.

 _Maybe I shouldn’t have pulled those knives out…_ Alex clenched his eyes shut as he gritted his teeth. _Jesus, I hope I didn’t just assure his death by doing that._

Feeling sick, he shoved the idea down along with everything else.

He continued on Nathan Avenue. The air quality suddenly felt much lighter, and he could see the rising sun on the horizon. Feeling such relief that he didn’t think was possible, he became so lightheaded his world began to spin.

He was out before he hit the asphalt.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Travis Grady slammed the door shut to his trailer, then turned to the man next to him.

“There you go, all set.”

“Thanks, Travis. That should be enough lumber to last through the winter.” Travis tipped his hat and smiled.

“No problem, Phil. Tell Janice hi for me.”

He turned to make his leave but was stopped by Phil speaking up, “Aw, leaving so soon? You sure you can’t stay for an early breakfast? The missus would love to cook for you.”

Travis smiled again; that did sound really nice, but this was his last stop on his month-long delivery schedule and he wanted to get on the road and back home as soon as possible. Not only that, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t stay any longer than necessary. Not out of fear of imposing, but from something nagging him in the back of his mind. That familiar buzz.

“Sorry bud, but I’m exhausted, and really should get going home.”

“Oh! You’re headed for home now? How long has it been?”

“Five weeks.”

“Oh, well then don’t let me keep you then! But hey, the next time you’re in the area you’ll be getting that homecooked meal whether you like it or not!”

Travis shook his head, “Now don’t you threaten me with a good time.” They shared a laugh, and Phil gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“You drive safe now, you hear?”

“Of course, Phil. You know me.”

Travis got back into his cab and started up the engine. Waving goodbye, he pulled out of Phil’s lot and back onto the road. Phil and Janice were so hospitable, almost like family. God knows Travis missed that. After dropping off Alex, he had fallen a bit behind on his delivery route, but he still managed to get a quick nap in. Phil didn’t mind Travis being a little late though; he was a loyal customer to the manufacturing company Travis worked for, and an old friend of his. He felt bad for leaving so abruptly, but he couldn’t shake this ominous feeling. He sighed and shook his head.

It was probably nothing.

.:.:.:.

Travis rolled down his window, allowing the cold air to blow into the cab in an attempt to keep him awake and focused. He found himself back on the backroads of Nathan Avenue almost absently, leading him towards Toluca Lake, and certain neighboring towns. As much as he hated to admit, he felt drawn here, even still. A familiar fix. This time, he felt a bit more at ease. Maybe because there was very little fog this time around, and he could actually see the rising sun skimming the water of the lake. It was peaceful. Normal even.

He wondered how Alex was doing. He hoped he had found his brother safe and sound, and was enjoying spending time with him and friends in his hometown. He had previously implied that he wasn’t happy returning home, that it was an obligation, but Travis trusted that things worked out okay in the end anyway for him. Maybe he even got a warm welcome home. The soldier deserved that much.

The noise kept buzzing on.

Something caught his eye. His headlights shone on something metallic up ahead in the road. They held onto it like a beacon, sparkling unnaturally. He slowed his truck down and squinted at the figure lying in the road.

_Roadkill?_

It wasn’t until his rig was a hundred feet away that he could tell in the dim light that it was actually, in fact, a human being. Upon that realization, Travis slammed on his breaks before he could even think to do it. His tires screeched against the asphalt, slowing his rig to a dead halt a few yards away from the body. Travis’ seatbelt caught him from slamming against his steering wheel, but instead threw him back in his seat, causing his suspension springs to bounce roughly. Once his seat settled, he quickly undid his belt and leaned forward over the dash to see over his cab’s hood. The body was still there, lying motionless, with their back to him. With his headlights shining directly on him, Travis recognized the shining metal dog tags and now blood-soaked khaki jacket: it was Alex.

“O-oh my god,” he gasped. He closed his eyes; this could not be happening. Not again. Not like Alessa thirty years ago. Not this close to Silent Hill. Not to Alex.

Bracing himself, he opened his eyes back to Alex’s lifeless figure in front of him, his dog tags having twisted around so they had fallen behind him. Travis was frozen in his seat.

“God dammit. Why him?” he muttered, cursing to himself. He looked away, conflicted: what should he do now? Bury him? Take his body somewhere? How would he explain that? He couldn’t just leave him there to get run over or dragged off by some animal. That’s just cruel. Sighing, he looked back over at him.

_Might as well check the damage._

Putting his cab in park, he took one more glance at the body, then stopped and stared. Was he breathing? Travis jerked upright and intently watched Alex’s body for signs of life. Sure enough, just barely, he could see the slight rise and fall of his chest.

“Holy shit,” Travis got out of his cab as fast as he could without tripping and eating pavement, and ran over to Alex. Kneeling down, he gently took Alex’s shoulders and turned him over onto his back. He felt his pulse: yes, he was still alive, but just barely. He breathed a deep sigh of sobering relief; the potentiality of Alex dying like this, so young, had hit him deeper than he realized.

This was no coincidence, this close to Silent Hill.

He must have also experienced the personalized hell that Travis had, faced his own demons and god knows what else, and came out alive. Chewed up and spat out, but alive nonetheless. If Travis believed in fate, then this was the closest he would get to it.

He slipped his arm under Alex’s bent knees and carefully picked him up in a bridal carry. Alex’s head rolled back and his arms laid limp in his lap. He felt so fragile, like a wilted flower. Travis quickly carried him to the passenger side of his cab, shifting Alex just enough against his chest to be able to open the door, and gently lifted him into the seat. He put on his seatbelt and shut the door before Alex could fall out, then gave a last cursory glance around the area. The trees seemed to form figures and shadows in the early morning light, the truck’s idle engine the only sound. He didn’t see anybody else or any items around, so he walked briskly back to the driver’s side of the cab and got in himself.

Exhaling, Travis took a moment to regain his composure, his nerves shot. He looked over at his returning travelling companion. It would have been nice if the situation wasn’t so dire. He was leaning up against the passenger door with his head down, still breathing, albeit shallowly. Travis snapped on the heater and put it on blast; Alex was absolutely frozen to the touch. Then he put his own seatbelt on, took his rig out of park and back into drive. The engine roared to life from being in idle, and Travis almost floored it.

Guess this answered his question of how Alex was doing.

.:.:.:.

The atmosphere in the cab was tense. Travis was almost white-knuckling the steering wheel, and no matter how many times he tried to ground and relax himself, Alex would make a shuddering wheeze or twitch violently in his slumber and it would put Travis on edge all over again. He couldn’t help but notice the gaping hole in Alex’s left thigh, now coagulated over. He could only imagine how he got that, but tried to not think of differing scenarios because he was sure they were all wrong and only made him more upset. The strong metallic scent of blood filled the cabin and hung heavy in the air, and to Travis’ silent horror he realized that his mouth was watering.

He quickly rolled his window down to air out the cab, gasping in breaths himself.

_What is wrong with me?_

After a few minutes he rolled the window back up to halfway and turned on the radio to try and distract himself. He tuned it to a morning talk show. The hosts were talking and making jokes they received from listeners, and it only grated on Travis’ nerves. He turned the station to music and lowered the volume down to background noise. He wasn’t in the mood.

His mind wandered; how has Silent Hill changed in the last thirty years? Travis let out a small chuckle at that, the idea posing as if he were catching up with an old acquaintance. A bittersweet reunion. He glanced at Alex. Much more bitter than sweet.

His truck roared past another sign:

Brahms 5

.:.:.:.

Travis pulled the truck into the parking lot of Brahms General Hospital, near vacant so early in the morning. Travis turned the engine off and leaned back in his seat, taking a few deep breaths and sighing them out. Once composed, he turned fully to Alex, still in the position of leaning against his door with his head down. He reached across the space between them and took ahold of Alex’s dog tags, then carefully slipped them off Alex. Travis took a look at them to try and find any information he could use. Wiping away grime, he could read:

SHEPHERD

A

206-12-1972

O-NEG

OTHER

He placed the tags back around Alex’s neck. Then his eye caught the knife handle in the sheathe in his top right pocket, next to his radio. He probably shouldn’t take that into the hospital. Travis unclipped the sheathe from the pocket and removed it from Alex’s jacket, along with the radio. The handle of the knife was strange: it was rather intricate, with the hilt and guard engraved with symbols and sigils Travis didn’t recognize. Curious, he pulled the knife out of the sheathe.

Although very worn and bloody, the knife was still beautiful. The symbols continued down the blade, and it was finely wrapped in wire. The very tip was forked. It was unlike any knife he’d ever seen. Travis was entranced by it; how did Alex get ahold of it? It looked like it belonged in a ritual. Blinking, he finally put the knife away in its sheathe. He opened the door to the back of his cab and placed it on the floor there.

Travis lightly patted Alex’s pockets for any other weapons he could have on him, only finding papers, gemstones, photographs and a locket. No supplies or weapons. Travis took all the pocket contents and placed them on the floor next to the knife as well.

“Okay. Time to go.” Travis exited the cab and walked over to Alex’s side, very carefully opening his door and catching him as he did so. He undid Alex’s belt and eased him out back into a bridal carry. He stepped off the footstep and then stood there, merely holding Alex close to him. He could feel Alex still breathing. Travis leaned his head down slightly.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he whispered into Alex’s hair. A wave of pity flooded him. He wouldn’t wish this punishment on anyone.

_What did you get yourself into, Alex?_

Travis quickly strode across the parking lot to deliver Alex to the emergency room. The woman at the front desk was appalled at the sight of Alex's half-dead body and Travis was barely able to get out a request for help before she called in staff to take Alex in to be examined.

_Did you find what you were looking for?_

The nursing staff liberated Alex from Travis' hold and set him onto a gurney, and Travis watched the emergency room doors close as they carted Alex off, his fate no longer in his hands.

_Was it worth it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homecoming's maps make no sense so I literally chose a street and put Alex there lol
> 
> This chapter isn't my favorite but it's a means to better ones so I hope you enjoyed anyway!


	3. Staying Afloat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Here's a longer chapter to make up for it
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's commented on my fics so far, it makes me so happy! I hope this one will be up to par as well, the social worker parts were somewhat difficult to do so apologies if they're weak or inaccurate haha
> 
> also this one is another Travis POV heavy chapter but here on out it will be more Alex-centered

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

While Alex was being examined, Travis was being questioned by a social worker. He was only able to provide the most basic of information he knew previously about the man: that his name is Alex Shepherd, he’s twenty-two years old and was on his way back home to Shepherd’s Glen from the Army to visit his parents and younger brother, no he doesn’t have a wallet or I.D. on him, no cell phone, and Travis had no means of contacting his family. The social worker, Lena Albright, tried looking up any contact she could in Shepherd’s Glen, but either didn’t receive a response back or found that the line was dead.

After some impressive research, Lena was able to find out, through the social security number on them, that the dog tags around Alex’s neck actually didn’t belong to him. Instead, they were his father’s, Adam Shepherd. Why Alex had them, Travis didn’t know. Alex said he had them since he left the hospital, therefore since he came back to the States, but then why would they be his father’s? Maybe Alex lost his own, and used his father’s in replacement? That didn’t seem right either.

Maybe that was something for Lena to find out. He had done his part, he should be on his way now, right? It felt to him like the best thing to do, considering he barely knows this man and has no connection to him other than the happenstance of picking him up twice, delivering him to the gates of hell and then rescuing him from it. Why stay and get more involved? Would Alex be appreciative if Travis were to stick around long enough for him to wake up and know who his savior was? Or was that self-serving of him? What if Alex didn’t care at all, and he was just wasting his time?

That didn’t ring true to Travis. Alex didn’t seem like that, and he felt deep down inside himself that he shouldn’t leave just yet. He _couldn’t_ leave just yet. He felt a draw that he hadn’t felt in years, not since _then_. Not since _her_. Alex still needed him; he could feel it.

Travis had many questions he wanted to ask him, but wasn’t sure how, or if it was his place to do so. The biggest question of all weighed heavy on his mind, prickling the back of his neck like anxiety: _did you go to Silent Hill?_

Travis was sure he knew the answer to that one, but had to hear it from the man himself. Then, he could be at peace knowing he wasn’t the only one who had survived the town’s grasp of the mind, body and soul. Knowing that he wasn’t alone in that experience.

He’d do anything to not be alone.

.:.:.:.

“Thanks for your help, Travis. We’ll take it from here once Alex wakes up.” Lena extended her hand and shook Travis’ in pleasant gratitude. They stood off to the side of the lobby in the emergency room, now lightly populated during the midday.

“You’re welcome, Lena. I really hope he’ll be okay.” Travis paused, and said soberly, “I think I’m probably the only person he has at the moment.”

“Seems like it. I can’t get a hold of anyone from Shepherd’s Glen, family or not. Once I hear anything, I’ll let you know. You’ll be hanging around, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be sticking around to talk to him after you do.”

“Okay, great. I think he’ll appreciate seeing a familiar face,” she said and smiled at him, and Travis couldn’t help but smile back at the thought.

“Thanks. I’ll catch you later,” Travis said and made his way out back to the parking lot. As much as he’d like to hang around a hospital lobby drinking bad coffee and watching daytime television, there was something he needed to take care of.

He reached his truck and opened the passenger side door. The scent of Alex’s blood still lingered in the air of his cab and immediately wafted out; blood was soaked into the seat he was in. He stared at the stain absently, and the noise in his head buzzed pleasantly. The metallic musk should have sickened him, should have made him want to air his cab out immediately and scrub his passenger seat clean.

Instead, it just made him hungry.

.:.:.:.

Travis found himself pulling into the parking lot of a supermarket in the middle of Brahms. He briskly strode inside and past tired-looking morning staff to the back of the store, straight to the meat department. He stopped, and stared. His eyes poured over the selection of saran-wrapped red. He wasn’t picky; he selected a package of a ground beef, already tasting iron.

That was all he needed, so he checked out just as quick as he came in. He went around to the back of the store, where he’d be alone. Leaning against the wall, he took the foam tray of meat out of the plastic bag and dug his nails into the thin saran wrapping to tear it off. Gazing at the glistening meat, he took a handful of the ground beef and started eating, savoring the watery blood that squeezed out as he chewed. Before he knew it, he had devoured the entire tray’s worth of ground beef, even licking his fingers of the juices. Satisfied, he dropped off the tray and bag into a nearby trashcan and headed back to his truck.

Funny, he hadn’t had the craving for raw meat like that in a long time.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Alex slowly roused into consciousness, eyelids sticking as he blearily cracked them open. They were met with a blinding whiteness he shut tight against as they tried to adjust. After some moments of arduous blinking, he was able to see. The first thing he was aware of was a dull throbbing at his temples, exacerbated by the too-bright fluorescent lights overhead—wait, lights?

Alex squinted around himself and found he was carefully tucked in a bed inside a small room. He had instead expected to wake up to a bed of cold asphalt and a ceiling of stars. Or to a black void of death. That would have been nice.

A comfortable looking cushioned chair was to his left near the door, and to his right was a large window with its sheer curtains drawn to block out the midday sunlight. A gentle beeping finally caught his attention, and he looked to see a heart monitor and a slow dripping IV stand nearby, connected to his inner left arm.

He recognized it as a hospital room, and his stomach dropped. Alex instinctively grasped at his neck for his chain—for whatever comfort it could bring—but only felt his skin and the soft-lined edge of his gown. He looked down in a panic to see that his dog tags were indeed gone.

_A nurse probably took them._

Before, when the memories of “war” were still fresh and vivid and _real_ , seeing a nurse was a calming experience; a welcoming refuge of care and possibly a glance of something nice if she were to bend over just right. Now, the mere thought of seeing a nurse only made him nauseous with dread. Swallowing down panic, Alex eased himself into a sitting position using the bed’s side handholds. Head clearer, he looked around again.

_How did I get here? Was everything just a dream? What if I never left the hospital at all?_

He sensed that wasn’t true; this wasn’t the same hospital he was sent to by his parents. The atmosphere felt different, normal even, and looked different from the dream he had previously. As if on cue, the drill hole in his left thigh began to throb, reminding him painfully that yes, he had in fact left the hospital and most, if not everything, that happened to him the past two days was actually real. He sucked in a breath and gently lifted his blanket and gown to see the damage, but it had been expertly wrapped up in gauze and bandages. He looked down at this hands and arms and found the same; they had been bandaged and taped up neatly, covering every cut, slash and scrape he had accumulated during his time in Shepherd’s Glen and Silent Hill. Everything hurt, and he was still worn out; whatever drugs they had him on were wearing off. He leaned back down into the bed.

_If I’m here, wherever this is, then what happened to Elle and Wheeler? Did they survive?_

Alex swallowed thickly. He couldn’t find either of them after escaping the underground and leaving the town. He hoped dearly that they were both able to escape on their own somehow.

Neither of them deserved what happened, especially Elle. She was caught up in the family rituals and sacrifices as well, losing her sister in the process. Alex held back tears; he may deserve everything that’s coming to him, for what he’s done, but the _children_. Their murdered souls twisted into monsters, seeking vengeance on their murderers.

Josh, seeking vengeance on—

No, no.

Not now.

Alex could at least take solace in the idea that he may have put their souls to rest, and for taking out Nora’s murderer himself: Judge Margaret Holloway. For a solid moment, he didn’t feel any guilt. Maybe for Elle’s sake he would have, but Judge Holloway ordered for her death as well, so as far as he’s concerned both her and Curtis can rot in hell.

Alex covered his eyes gently.

_At least I’ll have company there._

He jumped at the sound of knocking at his door. He stared at it with wide eyes, expecting the worse. There was a long pause until Alex realized the person was waiting for permission from him to enter.

“C-come—,” his voice cracked from disuse, and he had to clear this throat to try again, “come in.”

A woman with dark hair and skin wearing a professional-looking blouse and straight skirt entered his room, her heels clicking against the tile, and smiled upon seeing him awake.

“Why, hello Alex. I’m glad to see you up.” Alex looked at her confusedly, on edge.

“Hello.”

“Sorry for the intrusion, but I just need to ask you a few questions. Firstly, not a question, my name is Lena Albright. I’m a social worker.”

“Social worker?”

“Yes.” She took hold of the chair near the door and brought it closer to Alex’s bed. She sat down and then produced a pen and notepad from the bag around her shoulder. “I’ll be working on your case today.”

“My case?” She nodded.

“That’s right. You were brought into the hospital early this morning by someone who found you lying in the road. Do you remember any of that?” Alex didn’t want to remember anything at all, frankly, but that he definitely did not remember.

“Not at all. All I remember was passing out in the road.”

“Right, okay…” Lena quickly jotted a few notes on her pad, “And do you remember how you ended up there? Or how you got so hurt? You’ve suffered a lot of…unusual damage. Namely your gashes and your left leg.”

Alex began to sweat; there was no way he was telling _anyone_ , much less a social worker, what truly happened to him. He’d be admitted again in no time. He swallowed.

“I…when I got to town, there was hardly anyone there. There were a lot of sinkholes, and the roads were weak and gave away, and I fell in. A piece of rebar went into my leg, so I had to pull it out. I must have gotten the gashes on the way down.” She scribbled onto her pad again. She looked a bit doubtful.

“Interesting, and was anybody around to help you? What did the townspeople do about the sinkholes?”

“People have been going missing for months, so I was told. There weren’t many people left when the sinkholes happened. Shepherd’s Glen was about to go under anyway. It’s literally a ghost town now. I had to crawl out myself.”

“Is there anybody we can contact? Your parents or any friends?” Alex looked down somberly.

“No. I’m the only one left of my family. My parents were already gone and I found out my brother passed. I couldn’t find anyone else.”

Lena looked at him in sympathy. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” She continued writing down notes, long enough to annoy Alex.

_What is she writing?_

Finally, she stopped, and looked up once more, “One more question: how did you get your father’s dog tags?” He flinched.

“How do you know those aren’t mine?”

“The social security number doesn’t match.” He bit his lip.

“Fine. He gave them to me before I was deployed, as a good luck charm.” His heart ached at the lie; as if his father would actually do that. “I lost my own overseas, so I just kept his on to keep him close.” He almost gagged.

“Alright…guess everything checks out. Thank you, Alex.” Lena pushed the chair back and stood, now headed for the door.

Alex spoke up, “W-wait a second, Ms. Albright?” She paused and looked back at him. “Do you know who brought me here?”

“Yes. It was a trucker named Travis Grady.”

_Travis…why did that sound so familiar?_

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Travis reclined back in the bed of his cab, exhausted but unable to sleep from the anticipation. He had returned to the hospital parking lot after having cleaned his hands from the meat and his passenger side of all the blood Alex had left behind, the smell promptly aired out as well. He didn’t want to trigger another…episode like that again. Whatever that was.

He had received some news upon his return; he met up with Lena again and she told him she spoke to Alex and got some answers. Apparently, he was in an accident involving sinkholes that wiped out his town, including his family, and got hurt in the process.

_Boy is lying through his teeth. Nicely done._

Also, in better news, if Alex wasn’t able to be billed, or a contact of his, then his hospital stay would have to be written off as an act of charity care. Travis was relieved by that; he would have hated if Alex was burdened with an expensive bill out of the blue. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering when a good time to go visit him was. Anytime now, he supposed. He then turned his head and eyed the pile of items from Alex’s pockets on his cab floor.

_Well, Alex isn’t going anywhere._

Travis got up and sat on the edge of the bed, then carefully stepped down to the floor. He picked up the pile and then shimmied into his driver’s seat to better examine them with his overhead light. Alex must have discarded all his weapons and larger items at some point, except for his strange ornamental knife and whatever small items he had stuffed into his pockets. The pile contained many, many scraps of paper, all crumpled and folded over each other. They've gotten wet at some point but have since dried down into stiff pieces stuck together. Travis pulled them apart as carefully as he could without tearing them, and stacked them together neatly in a separate pile. In the center of the mass of papers were a handful of small Polaroid photographs. Travis furrowed his eyebrows, straightening them in his fingertips.

_Pictures of Alex's life?_

Travis flipped through the pictures, eleven in total, carefully regarding each one. Some were of random toys, and a disturbing one of a skinned dog, but most were of people. They were people he didn't know of course, being folks from Alex's town he assumed. He wondered what Alex’s relation to each person was, and if it was true that they were all gone. Travis lingered on the photos of the children, feeling a pang of pity he couldn’t place. What could have happened to them?

He got to the end of the pile and came upon one of Alex, looking surprised, and strangely in his military attire. This one must be very recent, compared to the others which seemed to be much more aged. A child's scrawl labeled the picture: _Hi Alex_

That sent a chill through him. Was Alex being followed? He flipped to the last picture, which was of another child, simply labeled _Me_.

_Is this Alex’s brother?_

The boy in the photo looked strange, though. Wrong, even. His skin had a bluish tint to it, and his eyes were sunken in and too dark for a child to have. He looked almost dead. Disturbed, Travis hid the picture of the boy to the back of the pile and dropped them back onto the floor of his cab. He turned his attention to the stack of wrinkled papers he pulled apart. He could distinguish enough that they were a child’s drawings done in crayon, and these disturbed him even more. The first few were of pink rabbits, bleeding and burning and drowning. He flipped through them quickly, until he got to one of a stick figure sitting on a swing.

_This one isn’t so bad._

Then he turned it around and found more scrawled writing:

_Where is Steven, mommy? He can't play and I'm sad._

_You mustn't, ask my darling— Steven has been bad._

Travis read the passage a few times, then slowly turned to the next page, one of multiple stick figures seemingly buried.

_Billy too, and Sally? Did they do something wrong?_

_I'm afraid it's true, child—all your friends are gone._

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, flipping to the next page almost on autopilot, morbidly intrigued.

Now it was a stick figure with a large mouth and teeth about to eat what Travis guessed were children.

_Beware of he who took them—he goes by many names._

_The Bogeyman, the Shadow One, but all are he, the same._

He flipped through them quicker, more focused on the poem than of the crude drawings of children being tortured:

_For every sin a child has, must be a punishment to bear._

_Your friends are now beyond our reach: trapped deep within his lair._

_Remember to always behave, for sins he won't abide._

_He wields a rusty, jagged blade, to cut out your insides._

_The lying little children, with souls selfish and small_

_Will find their wriggling tongues cut out, and nailed to his wall._

_And if they take what is not theirs, there can be no doubt_

_He'll stretch their skin until it snaps, and all the blood drains out._

_The bullies and their spiteful wrath will find torment as well._

_Soon he will strike them where they stand and drag them into hell._

_Child, you must obey your parents: do everything they say._

_Little ones who do otherwise, he tortures in the flames._

Travis felt his hands shaking.

_Beatings cleanse the soul, they say, and that is what he'll do._

_If you don't control your anger then you'll feel his anger too._

_You are your brother's keeper, remember it always._

_Or else, the Bogeyman will chain you underneath the waves._

_And while good children live, bad ones cannot escape their fate._

_For once you hear his screeching wail, it's already too late._

He finally flipped to the last page, of children being thrown into a monstrous pit:

_So do not cry aloud at night stay hidden in your bed_

_Or the Bogeyman from Silent Hill will come chop off your head._

That line triggered a memory, from back _then_ , of a poem he came across, about a monster so personal—

_Here comes a candle to light you to bed_

_Here comes the_ Butcher _—_

Travis threw the drawings across the cab, suddenly panting. The pages flew about, and he swallowed, feeling sick. Maybe it would be best to go visit Alex now.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Alex lay staring up at the ceiling, mind comfortably blank. He didn’t want to think about anything right now. In doing so he lost track of time, staring into space until a light knocking at his door snapped him out of it. His visitor didn’t wait for a confirmation to enter, and in walked an older man who wasn’t dressed like any hospital staff.

He was dressed like a typical trucker: a red and black plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a green and brown vest with an upturned collar over it, and worn jeans. What looked like a coin on a chain peeked out from where his shirt buttons were open. He had on a trucker hat with bangs of dark brown hair sticking out, bearded, and dark rings under his kind brown eyes, like he hadn’t slept well in a while. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties.

He seemed familiar, but Alex couldn’t place him.

The man’s face brightened upon seeing Alex, “Oh good, you’re awake.” He gently shut the door behind him as he continued, “I was afraid you’d be sleeping again. How’re you feeling?”

Blinking in surprise, Alex spoke up, his voice hoarse, “I-I’m sorry but, who are you?”

The man looked at him confused for a moment before quickly realizing, and then laughed a little, “Ah, of course. I should have figured you wouldn’t remember me. I was the one who dropped you off at that town the other day, the truck driver,” he said and gave a warm smile. “The name’s Travis Grady.”

Alex immediately recognized him then. It felt like that happened much longer than just a day ago. He rubbed a hand over his forehead and eyes, head still hurting. “Oh yeah. Yeah, I remember you now.”

“I’m also the one who brought you here. I uh, found you passed out in the road. You were hurt real bad.”

Alex’s pulse quickened, he glanced around the room before settling on staring at his lap. “Yeah? The social worker mentioned that.” Swallowing, he asked, “And where is…here?”

“Brahms General Hospital. It was the closest nearby. It’s a small place but I brought you here yesterday morning and they were able to take you in quickly.”

Alex was quiet for several long moments. When he finally spoke his voice was calm, “…thank you, Travis. For bringing me here. Saving me.” He looked over to the half-closed curtains on the window, murmuring, “But I wish you didn’t.”

Travis didn’t respond. A heavy silence hung between them, the only sounds in the room coming from the ticking of a clock and slow drops from Alex’s IV stand.

_Maybe he knows what happened to Elle and Wheeler._

Travis glanced at the door and made like he was about to leave when Alex suddenly asked, “Did you see anybody else when you found me? Or…hear anybody else?” He looked back over at Travis and Travis could hear the fragile hope in Alex’s voice, see it on his face.

He frowned. “No, I didn’t. Just you.”

Alex took a second to process this, eyes dimming. He looked down at his lap again, then clenched the blankets and turned his head away. Several seconds passed until he spoke again, his voice weak and watery, “Travis, could you leave now, please?”

Travis, anticipating this, started for the door, “Ye-yeah. Sure thing.”

Once the door clicked shut, Alex buried his face in his hands and finally allowed himself to grieve.

_I really am alone now._

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Travis wasn’t sure if he should go to visit Alex again.

He was back in his cab, papers now picked up and put far away in the back, with his head resting upon his hands against the steering wheel. It was becoming dark now, and he had to make the decision of whether to leave or stay.

Alex insinuating that he would have preferred to have been left to die in the road absolutely broke his heart, and he felt that his presence was unnecessary now. He should just leave Alex alone to recover and get back to his life, whatever was left of it, and he should get back to his, alone. It would be better that way. Alex was just a stranger, after all.

Then again, Travis remembered how he felt after leaving Silent Hill himself. How misplaced and alien he felt around regular people, being back in normal society. Trying to fit back into his routine. The loneliness of trauma. The nightmares.

His work friends already chided him for talking about his parents and nightmares, there was no way he could have confided in any of them and be taken seriously for it. He had to hold it together by himself; see the experience as therapeutic, the very best he could. Over the years, he had gotten very good at keeping to himself, a closed book, and the urge to disclose his past and time in Silent Hill became essentially nonexistent. His own personal secret.

But there was something about this man that Travis couldn’t shake; something in his eyes. He’s seen that kind of look before, in his own. There was no way he hadn’t gone to Silent Hill himself. Travis had no idea what Alex had faced, who he had lost, but anything— _anything_ — was better than the possibility of him being abandoned and left to navigate this terrifying world alone. If only he could help Alex out himself, ease him back into normalcy the only way someone who has experienced similar horrors could.

Travis lifted his head and blinked.

Wait.

Could he?

Could he help Alex, provide him a home and a means to live a normal life again?

His heart fluttered at the thought, but then he shook his head.

No, Alex wouldn’t ever agree to that.

Travis anxiously tapped his fingertips on his steering wheel.

_Would he?_

.:.:.:.

Travis paced in front of the elevator of the hospital, nerves eating away at him. It was the next morning, and he barely slept that night. His mind was too busy churning over differing scenarios of Alex both accepting and declining what he had to offer, none of them satisfying. He was unable to find out when Alex was being released, and was worried he’d missed his opportunity already. 

“Mr. Grady?” He jumped slightly at the sound of his name, and turned to see Lena approaching him.

“Oh, Miss Albright, good morning.”

“Good morning. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s okay. I’m just a bit worried about Alex, is all.”

“Ah, yes, I wanted to speak with you about him. Do you know what his living arrangements will look like after his release? Like Alex said, there’s no one left in the town I can contact. I wanted to check base with you first before I arrange anything.” Travis felt his pulse quicken, a panicked feeling rising at the mere thought of potentially losing Alex.

“That’s…actually what I was worried about. I was going to go speak to him about it.” Lena took a look at her watch.

“You may want to do it soon; I believe he’s getting let out early, either today or tomorrow I believe.”

Travis sighed; it was now or never.

“Okay, I’m going up now.” Lena nodded and Travis pressed the button for Alex’s floor. He got on and waited impatiently for the doors to close and to ascend. As the elevator beeped, his mind started racing again.

_What if Lena was wrong and he’s already gone? What if I’m too late, and he’s sent off with someone else? If he’s still here and says no, then what?_

Travis tapped on his thigh anxiously. Once the doors opened, he was out and walking briskly down the hall. He quickly turned the corner and almost ran into someone. They both stopped suddenly to avoid collision, and looked at each other. It was a young woman with tan skin and light blonde hair, wearing a track jacket, gray pants with boots, and looking worse for wear. She stared up at him, looking frightened, before taking a step back and looking away.

“S-sorry. Excuse me,” she muttered and quickly went past him, around the corner and out of sight. Travis stared after her, concerned.

_Poor thing. What’s up with her?_

There was something about her that Travis couldn’t place, but he pushed it out of his mind and continued to Alex’s room. He noticed his pace was quickening, and before he knew it Travis just about ran into the door as he ripped it open, breathless, “ _Alex?”_

Alex, lying in bed and listlessly staring out the window, startled and grabbed the blankets at the sudden noise, jerking his head to the door. He glanced around quickly until he settled on Travis in the doorway, and his moment of terror passed. “Travis?” He relaxed, releasing his vice grip and easing himself to sit up, wincing slightly, “Jesus, you scared me. What are you doing here? I thought you left.”

Trying to catch his breath, Travis stood up straight and exhaled to relax himself. He closed the door behind him, but then paused.

_Calm down, he’s still here._

“Is there something wrong?” Alex looked scared, and that made Travis’ heart hurt. He composed himself.

“No, there’s nothing wrong. I just needed to ask you something uh, important, and I was just worried you would be gone before I could…do that.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Um, okay. Yeah, I’m due to be let out early tomorrow.” Travis kicked himself mentally for freaking out and rushing when he had a whole day to see him, but merely hummed in acknowledgement as he watched Alex nervously tug on the blankets in his lap. Alex let out a short laugh, “So what’s so important you had to run back and ask me about?”

Suddenly feeling on the spot, Travis removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the floor. “Yeah, see, it has to do about you getting let out later. Uhm.” He paused, words sticking in his throat and Alex was looking at him expectantly with those pretty eyes and small smile and he just needed to say it just say it _just say it—_

“Yes…?” Alex’s gentle prodding snapped him out of it enough for Travis to quickly tumble out,

“Do you have anywhere you could go after this? At all?”

Alex looked taken aback, but he recovered quickly, his shoulders slumping and eyes casting down. His voice was quiet, “No. I don’t.” He leaned back into his pillow and sighed. “To be honest, I have no idea what I’m going to do once I’m let out.”

Travis tapped on the brim of his hat in his hands, hesitant.

Alex’s frown deepened. “Was that it?”

Travis inhaled and then slowly exhaled, slipping his hat back on. “No. That wasn’t it.” He stuck his hands in his pockets to refrain from wringing them and stood straight, trying to appear calm and collected. “I was going to ask if maybe you would…you would like to come with me.”

Alex’s eyes widened, “Come with you? What— “

“As in, come and stay at my place. At least until, you know, you get your life back together, and then we could go from there. I know we’ve only met a few times, but I really want to help you out. I live in an apartment the next state over and I have an extra bedroom I don’t use. You could stay as long as you need to. Sound like a good plan?”

The offer hung in the air, deafening in the sudden silence.

Alex slowly broke his gaze away from Travis and stared down at the bedspread, twisting it in his hands and thinking hard. Finally, he sat up straighter and met Travis’ eyes, “That sounds like a great plan Travis, but, why? I mean, you don’t even know me. You don’t owe me anything. And like, I’ll be honest, I’m pretty fucked up, man. I don’t think you’d want someone like me hanging around. You—you’ve already done so much for me; I couldn’t possibly impose on you like that.” He closed his eyes and turned his head away. “Also, I…I don’t know if it’d be a good idea. Like, you don’t have to do this just to be nice.” Travis looked at him straight on, determined.

“Alex, if I didn’t want you to come with me, then I wouldn’t have asked.” Travis resisted the urge to brush through his hair again. “You wouldn’t be imposing on me at all, I promise. And don’t take this the wrong way but, I think you’ll be needing somebody to help you recover.”

Alex looked back and raised an eyebrow. “And you think you can help me with that?” There was no bite to the question, but Travis clenched his jaw regardless, steeling himself for rejection.

_More than you know._

Travis held his gaze with him. “I’d like to try.”

Alex seemed to contemplate this, looking away and lacing his fingers together, his expression thoughtful. Travis tried to keep himself relaxed and patient, despite his heart feeling like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

A few more agonizing moments passed, with Alex still looking doubtful at his lap and staying quiet, Travis sighed. Was there anything else he could say to convince him? He didn’t want to seem pushy, or creepy. It was a stupid idea anyway. Really, asking some homeless stranger to move in with him. What is he even looking to get out of this? He was basing all this on some wild hunch in a desperate attempt to form some sort of connection with someone who knows about _there_. He should just call it off and make it easy for him; _never mind, it’s okay, you don’t need my help, sorry to bother you, take it easy now, maybe I’ll see you around sometime?_

Resolved, and admittedly disappointed, Travis made a move to speak, but caught himself as Alex started first, quietly:

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll go with you.”

Travis exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, hoping that he heard him correctly. “Really?” He felt himself grinning. “That’s…that’s great.”

Alex smiled weakly, relief shining in his eyes. “Thank you, for the offer. That’s so ridiculously kind of you man, I-I don’t know what to say.” He brought a hand to his forehead and leaned forward in his bed, laughing shakily. “I’ll be honest, I was seriously dreading the idea of trying to figure out what I was going to do once I was released. I don’t have a single thing to my name, and I don’t even know the area.” He smiled, eyes softening. “It’ll be nice to have something to look forward to.”

Travis’ heart sped up at Alex’s sentiment, mind blurring from his smile.

_Jesus, I think I’m becoming attached._

“Well, you do have a couple things,” Travis mused aloud, getting Alex’s attention. “You still have your jacket, what’s left of it, with the rest of your clothes and tags in your personal bag. I also took out the things in your pockets, including your knife, they’re in my truck.”

Alex’s face lit up, “Holy shit, really? Oh man, that’s fucking awesome, thank you so much. I was worried about those.”

Travis smiled, warmed that he could make him happy and relax his nerves in the moment. “You’re welcome.”

_I’ll have to ask him about those papers later._

A thought came to Travis’ mind about what Alex said previously. “Other than that, you’re right, you really don’t have anything.” He shrugged, “guess I’ll have to pick you up some new clothes.” Alex balked; guess the idea hadn’t crossed his mind. His other clothes were absolutely ruined. He looked as if he wanted to decline out of politeness, or maybe guilt, but seemed to realize that Travis was undeniably right. Travis decided to drive the point home, “Well, I can’t just let you walk out of here naked, can I?”

He laughed at the harsh blush that suddenly came over Alex’s face. Alex laughed a little, himself.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to do that.”

“Tell me, what do you like to wear?”

“Oh uh, shit I don’t really know, I’m pretty basic, I guess. You can just get me anything.” He paused, then gave a smirk, “as long as it isn’t all plaid shirts and ugly vests.”

That made Travis stop, and tilt his head to Alex. Did he just make a joke?

Travis gave an exaggerated sigh and put his palms up, “Now see, just for that, that’s all I’m getting you now.” He flicked the collar of his vest, “I even get a discount on it.” That got a genuine laugh out of Alex.

“Sorry, just testing the waters,” he snickered, and Travis smiled back.

“Fair enough. I’ll just look for things I think would look good on you.” Travis missed the way Alex’s eyebrows shot up at that as he took out a small notepad from his vest pocket, “What size are you, in everything. Even shoes.” Alex stammered, but nonetheless told his clothing and shoe sizes to Travis, who wrote them down. Travis felt a familiar constricting feeling in his chest, not unlike anxiety, but something else.

_I’m actually going through with this._

“Great, got it.” He snapped the notepad shut and slipped it and his pen back into his vest pocket. “I’ll try to be back before visiting hours are over but if not then I’ll see you tomorrow morning before you’re let out.” He gave a curt wave in Alex’s direction as a farewell and turned on his heel towards the door. He felt the sudden need to leave Alex’s presence. This was all becoming a bit too much to handle.

“Travis, wait.” Travis paused with his hand on the door handle and looked over his shoulder at the other man. Alex swallowed, and quietly exhaled a breath, “Thank you again, for everything. This has all been so overwhelming and scary for me but…I’m grateful that you’re willing to give me so much of your time and help. I don’t think I deserve it, but it’s…really nice that _you_ think I do.” He smiled again, and that was definitely too much for Travis to handle.

Travis kept eye contact with him for a few moments, expression blank—searching—before turning his head back to the door and opening it. “No problem.” He shut it quickly behind him. Alex’s smile dropped and he pressed back against his pillows, somewhat disheartened.

Outside the door, Travis leaned against the wall with his head tilted up to the ceiling, pulled his hat over his chest, and willed his heart to stop pounding.  
  



End file.
